


Nighttime

by GintokisGirl95



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 21:06:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7404736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GintokisGirl95/pseuds/GintokisGirl95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lineages are revealed, and Jon digs to find the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nighttime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tyler_Not_The_Creator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyler_Not_The_Creator/gifts).



_Night gathers, and now my watch begins…_

The words were forever ingrained in his mind, even in death. The Night's Watch vow came to his mind as he drifted aimlessly in the darkness, feet refusing to stop, body continuously wandering. _Why can I not stop?_ He asked himself, but paused when he saw three figures before him, two men and one woman, surrounded by light, almost as bright as the Sun.

He felt afraid to cross the barrier and step into the light; he enjoyed the darkness, and he was always fond of the night, always finding solace in it and enjoying the solitude and quiet stillness of it before the morning rose before him. He took pride in enjoying the sombre feel of the darkness. He was completely alone, but he's never felt more comfortable in his life. He wanted to stay in the clutches of the darkness, but the people were facing him, seemingly beckoning him to come, so he continued to walk. 

The white was entirely too bright, so much so that it was nearly painful and burned his eyes. He placed the back of his hand in front of his eyes as he stepped forward, into the light. He was half-expecting to pass on to another part of death, but the people were still in front of him, waiting. He pushed on, hoping that it was worth it. And it was; the first person he saw was his father, Lord Eddard Stark, then he noted the two other persons. There was a man, not much taller than him and not much older than him, with hair made of thin silver and eyes the colour of amethysts. Next to the man was a woman, with the familiar wavy dark hair that stopped past her shoulder blades, body slender yet so sturdy. She reminded him of someone…someone who he felt was more important to him than anything else in the world.

"Arya?" Jon asks, only to hear his father's laugh. 

"No, Jon…Lyanna." 

"Father never talked about you," Jon replied, turning back to her. "But I have heard a lot about you." 

"Oh, yes? What have you heard?" She questioned, a smile ghosted on her face.

"That you rode horses better than any man, and that…that you had a tragic end." He saw her give a sad smile. 

"A tragic end, aye," she replied. He noted that her accent was much like his own. "I lost my life, giving birth to a young, grey-eyed little boy. He was born with a head of hair, curly and dark, much like mine." 

"Jon, there is something that I have been meaning to tell you," Ned started. "We are not here without a reason. I must tell you now. You…you deserve to know."

"What is it, Father?"

"I am not your father," Ned starts. He took a deep breath before he added, "Rhaegar is."

It felt hard to breathe. His chest constricted as the news finally came to him. _He is not my father…he is not my father…_ Tears freely ran down his face, and Lyanna was the one to wipe them away. Rhaegar stepped forward to pull Jon close and into a fierce embrace.

"Lord Stark has done an excellent job raising you," the silver-haired man -- _Rhaegar_ \-- said, releasing his young son. "You grew to be a fine young man."

"And…the curly-headed child…?" He turned back to face the youthful couple standing next to him. _They died at very young ages,_ he thought.

"Was you. I promised Ned to protect you," Lyanna added. "Robert would have killed you if he had known."

_So I am the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark…_ He turned to Ned, and as if Ned read his thoughts, nodded in acknowledgement.

"I didn't want your life to end the same way your siblings' lives had. Plus…you are my family. Of course I would take you in," Ned interjected. "The King would have killed you - he hated Targaryens ever since Rhaegar took your mother away from him…Robert was betrothed to her."

"Not to mention that I didn't want to be married to someone I hated," Lyanna added. "I didn't like him. I despised the idea of an arranged marriage and I wanted to find my own way around."

"So you left behind you honour for a promise," Jon started, the wheels still turning in his head. "And you ended up dying because of this secret. Why did you not tell me before I...died?"

"I wanted to tell you. Trust me, I did, but there was never a good time for me to tell you. I wanted to tell you while you were serving in the Night's Watch. I wanted to make my way back to you and reveal everything; since you were in the Night's Watch, your vows could shield you from any harm by Robert, but I was killed before I could make the journey."

Jon looked at his feet, just like he did when Lady Catelyn scolded him, then he looked back to his mother, his gaze almost innocent. She returned his innocence with a kindly grin. He felt as if he were looking at an older version of Arya, which was what shocked him the most. Jon noticed that he had her features, all of them, including her smile. She was definitely a Northern woman, a trueborn Stark…

"I didn't feel like I belonged with the others," Jon admitted. "I felt…different." 

"Because you _are_ different," Rhaegar interjected. "You are my son, and that's what makes you unique. The blood of the dragon runs through your veins…and I want you to know, Jon, that your mother and I loved you very much; I was so anxious to defeat Robert Baratheon and return to you and my lady Lyanna. I prayed every day for your safety, and my wife's. Unfortunately, only one of the prayers were answered, but…seeing you now is important to me. We deeply loved you, and we would have done anything for you, if only we could have. We wished that we could have been there for you, through everything…but destiny tore us all apart. I am sorry you had to live as a bastard, but it was the only way your survival could be ensured."

"What is…what is my real name?" Jon inquired. "Since I was born a Targaryen, it would be tradition for me to have a Targaryen name. What is it?"

"Jaehaerys." The name felt foreign, exceptionally foreign, and yet so familiar as he repeated the name his father had given him. "It makes sense, doesn't it? History often repeats itself…the saying rings true, even today…"

He wondered what his father meant by that.

"I couldn't have protected you with such a Targaryen name," Ned spoke, "so I had to name you something else. I gave you Jon, after Jon Arryn, a wonderful, gracious, noble man. Both names befit you well."

They all felt it; it was close to the time where he had to leave them…again. 

"It's time, Jon," Ned muttered. "It is time for you to go."

"Go to the crypts, my son, and you will find the truth." Jon's eyes met with his mother's; everything about them was so similar, like two drops of water. Jon returned a smile to her.

Rhaegar stared into his eyes as he placed a hand upon his son's shoulder. His indigo eyes were stern as he remarked, " _Wake up._ "

 

The time he awoke, his dream was fresh in his mind. _Go to the crypts,_ he heard his mother whisper in his mind, her voice so loud that he almost thought she murmured it directly in his ear. _You will find the truth._

He headed down, in the deep night so that no one could see him leave his chambers. There was something about the entrance to the crypts that told him that he shouldn't be there; that he was an outsider, and had no business being there amongst the Kings of Winter, with their iron swords and stone wolves, but he pressed on, determined to listen to his dreams. 

He dug, and he pulled at the rubble, hoping that, if he found anything, he would have evidence, at last, of who he really is, and not just from a dream. And there it was: _JAEHAERYS TARGARYEN, son of LYANNA STARK and RHAEGAR TARGARYEN_. 

He struggled to breathe, tears freely ran from his eyes when he read the words on his isolated tomb, not too far from Lyanna's, whose statue seemed to weep blood. For this, he felt glad that no one could see him during this time of weakness.

And in his empty space, he found another thing: a black and red cloak, with the Targaryen sigil embedded on the middle of the back, obvious and easy for him to see; inside, wrapped inside of the cloth, he found an egg, seemingly made of ice.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> This is actually a loose follow-up to Wake Up. I hope it's okay because I'm extremely nervous posting this. I had such an incredibly hard time writing this. :O


End file.
